


Homecoming

by lumenbriide



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 08:51:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10693605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumenbriide/pseuds/lumenbriide
Summary: The night that Wally dies, Nightwing takes a ‘leave of absence’ from the team. “He kept telling himself to toughen up and get over it. Kept telling himself that Nightwing didn’t grieve, Nightwing didn’t cry, Nightwing didn’t fall to pieces, Nightwing didn’t show weakness. But suddenly, all he longed for was to go back in time, give up Nightwing, and be Robin. Just one more time.”





	1. Chapter 1

_“I’m not retiring! Just…taking a leave of absence. I need a break, Kaldur. You, me, Wally…we founded this team. And without him, it’s just…”_

_“I understand.”_

_“I’ll be back, don’t worry. When I’m ready, I’ll be back.”_

Those had been the last words he had spoken to his friend, Kaldur’Ahm, before walking away. Walking away from the Watchtower, from the Justice League, from the Young Justice Team. Taking his ‘leave of absence’. He had spoken the truth a half hour ago – he desperately needed a break. A chance to sort stuff out on his own.

So now, here he was. He’d been standing in the same position ever since he returned to his tiny apartment in Bludhaven.

 _What do I do now?_ Feeling drained and tired, Nightwing looked around, trying to make up his mind. Finally, he settled for the restroom, deciding cleaning himself up a bit wouldn’t hurt. But as he walked into his bathroom and clicked on the light, he jumped, and sucked in a sharp breath, realizing it was only a mirror.

That’s right. The Bird of the Night scared himself. Not in the terror sort of way, though; more like…surprise. Shock. Because when he looked into the reflective glass, he didn’t recognize himself. It took him a few minutes to remember the person in the mirror was himself. Nightwing. Richard Grayson. Former Boy Wonder. Former Robin.

 _Former_. He hated that word. Absolutely loathed it. Former Boy Wonder. Former Robin. Former ward of Bruce Wayne. Former partner of Batman. Former member of the _former_ Young Justice Team. Former Gotham Academy student. Former boyfriend to both Zatanna Zatara and Barbara Gordon. Former best friend of Wally West…

Wally.

The name nearly knocked the breath out of him as it hit his mind like a stone.

Wally.

Moaning wearily, Richard brought a hand to his face, and slowly rubbed his temples. Wally’s death had only been three hours ago. _Three hours since his best friend had been disintegrated in front of his very eyes_. He hadn’t grieved at all; but that was because he was choosing not to. He didn’t want to feel the heaviness on his heart he knew was bound to come. He knew for a fact that Artemis was at Wally’s parent’s house, probably trying to console them while being consoled at the same time. Aqualad and the Young Justice Team had set Wally’s hologram up in the park, so that the former Kid Flash’s image was among the rest of the deceased heroes. The Justice League had held a memorial service for the speedster.

Him? He had watched in horror as Wally simply ceased to exist. Then, he had quit on his team, made his way back here, and scared himself with his own reflection.

He scowled at the mirror, letting his image sink into his brain so that it wouldn’t happen again. He couldn’t help but compare himself to how he had looked five years ago, when he had still been Robin, the Boy Wonder. He had grown much taller, and broader too. His face was filled out more but still angular. His hair, instead of being cut at the top of his neck, now curled neatly around his collar. His flesh was tanner, he was more muscular, looked more…more what? Menacing? Powerful? Or just simply older?

After staring at himself for several minutes, one of his still-gloved hands slowly made its way to his face, and carefully, slowly, he peeled the domino mask away from his face, and he looked back into the mirror to find himself staring at pair of bright blue eyes. His eyes. Those were the only parts of him that hadn’t changed over the years. They were still bright and as blue as ever. He usually took comfort in that fact – that whenever he had trouble accepting he was changing, he could always look at his eyes and see the azure irises of his youth. With the mask off, he seemed a bit younger. With the mask off, he wasn’t the stoic, tense hero Nightwing. With it off, he was back to being Richard Grayson – an eighteen-year-old who had just lost his best friend.

There it was. It hit him suddenly. The grief. The overwhelming sensation of loss. Quickly, however, he buried those feelings into the darkest corners of his mind, taking a deep breath and squeezing those bright blue eyes shut tight. He wouldn’t give into his emotions, wouldn’t collapse like he wanted to or sob like body kept threatening to do. Because Nightwing didn’t grieve. Nightwing didn’t cry. Nightwing didn’t fall to pieces, or show any weakness.

Nightwing was supposed to be the powerful leader of Young Justice. Nightwing was supposed to be fearless. After all, he lived in Bludhaven. Nightwing was supposed to be able to deal with anything and everything.

 _Supposed_ to.

But for the first time in a long time, he didn’t want to be Nightwing. Didn’t want to be leader of the Team, didn’t want to be the lone savior of Bludhaven.

He wanted to be Robin again.

His mind began buzzing as memories assaulted him. He heard his own voice, five years younger, laughing and giving that signature cackle. _“Totally feeling the aster!”_ he heard himself say in his mind. Images of a group of six teens, all of them joined together by fate, all fighting side-by-side against the odds. The original Young Justice. The original Team. Robin, Artemis, Kid Flash, Superboy, Miss Martian, and Aqualad.

 _The six of us…we did the impossible_ , he thought grimly, taking a deep, shaky breath as more memories flowed through his vision. He remembered covert missions around the world, and friendly training sessions in the heart of Mt. Justice. The first time he was introduced to Artemis, M’gann, and Superboy – well, to be more specific, they _found_ Superboy… He couldn’t help but smile at that one particular memory. Their first mission as a Team. Sure, it had been against the Justice League’s wishes, and it had only been him, Wally, and Kaldur; but it had brought them all together.

The smile faded soon enough. It always did. He scowled as he realized he didn’t smile much anymore. And it had been forever since he had laughed. He certainly was nothing like his thirteen-year-old self. He had given up the bantering, the fun with the English language, the signature cackle, a long time ago. Left them behind when he had moved to Bludhaven. When he left the identity Robin behind, he had given up a part of himself as well. He wasn’t the same. _I don’t think I ever will be_ me _again._

He missed Wally. He missed being Robin. He missed the original Team. He missed being funny and witty and cocky and…

He missed being himself.

He looked down at his chest, at the blue bird that was sewn to his new suit. Nightwing. That’s who he was now. A fraud. Nightwing was nothing like the real Richard Grayson… _But do I really remember who the real me is anymore?_ Now that he thought about it, he was more like the Batman – somber, gruff, efficient but cold. He had adopted that personality when he had decided to work in Bludhaven. It was worse than Gotham.

Gotham. He missed Gotham too.

That’s when he made up his mind. Quickly leaving the bathroom, he walked over to his bedroom, and changed out of his Nightwing suit, thrusting it into the closet. He slipped into a pair of black pants and a black, leather jacket. He looked into the full-length mirror and sighed at his reflection. Even in civilian clothes he didn’t recognize himself. All he remembered was a short, cocky boy who always wore skinny jeans, a colored hoodie, and a thin jacket. The tall man in the mirror was _not_ him.

He wanted to be himself. He just didn’t know how.

Maybe he did.

He grabbed the keys for his motorcycle and strode out of the apartment. That was Nightwing’s apartment. He just wanted to be Richard Grayson at the moment. And he could think of only one place where he could find that person…himself.

As he climbed onto his bike, he was greeted with a flashback of the Team again, and his own R-Cycle. His mouth twitched upwards a bit, but it quickly melted into a frown. He started up the engine, and steered the bike East. Towards the shoreline. Towards Gotham. Towards Wayne Manor.

He wanted to go home.


	2. Chapter 2

He hadn’t been to the Manor in almost a year.

He hadn’t been _home_ in almost a year.

He sat on his now still motorcycle, just outside the large iron gates that led into the property, not being able to bring up the courage to sound the buzzer.

He knew for a fact that Tim wasn’t home, that he was still working with the Team on some covert spy mission. But Bruce should be in.

Bruce.

Could  he really just do that to him? Just show up at his doorstep, for no good reason? The last time he had been here was when he had moved out. He clearly remembered a bitter argument, the one that led up to him storming out of his home, never turning back.

_“I don’t care what you say, Bruce!” Richard hollered over his shoulder as he hooked the last of his bags to his motorcycle. “Bludhaven needs a hero! I can handle it!”_

_“Don’t shout so loud,” was the stern billionaire’s sharp reply as Bruce Wayne followed his ward – former ward – out and stood on the porch, arms crossed, eyes fixated in a Bat-glare. “I’m not doubting your abilities, Dick, but Bludhaven is even worse than Gotham.”_

_“But didn’t you train me for the worse? I’m not your little sidekick anymore, Bruce! I’m an adult now, I can make my own decisions. Just like you decided to give my identity to some total stranger!”_

_Bruce’s eyes narrowed even more. “You and I both agreed you were too old to be Robin. And you were totally fine with me giving that name to Jason…”_

_“I_ said _I was fine!” was the angered retort. “Gah! You were never good with feelings or emotions, Bruce! I_ said _I was fine with it! Did you really think I liked you handing_ my _identity to some strange kid with an attitude? No! But I’m making the best of things and moving to Bludhaven._ Nightwing _could do some good there.” He climbed onto his bike and started the engine._

_Hearing the vehicle start up seemed to hit something in the usually stern man, because Bruce’s eyes widened and he took a few steps forward. “Dickie, wait…”_

_“Richard!” The younger man turned and gave a fairly good imitation of a Bat-glare at his former mentor. “Richard! My name is Richard! Not Dickie! Not Dick! It’s_ Richard _!”_

_Bruce stopped moving, and then the blank mask fell on again, and he simply said, “Good luck then, Richard.” Then he turned, walked back into the Manor, and locked the door._

_Richard glowered at the door for a few seconds before turning his bike and speeding away, not even looking back…_

He stared at the gate buzzer, motionless as he thought back to the day he had moved out. _I never should have yelled at him like that_ , he thought regretfully. _I had always wanted him to act protective and father-like. He finally did, by not wanting me to go to Bludhaven, and I…_

He couldn’t bring himself to continue that train of thought. He shoved the guilt and regret into the dark corner, where the grief was still lingering in the shadows. That’s what he did nowadays. Hid his heavy emotions in the back of his mind, thinking that maybe if he hid them long enough, they would just disappear.

In the months that had followed, he had become leader of the Team, Jason Todd had died, and the identity of Robin had been passed to Timothy Drake – Bruce’s new foster son. Of course, Richard had called up, told Bruce it was fine, and the two started talking again…or as much as the Batman did talk over the phone or holographic projectors. He was actually becoming quite fond of Tim, being his leader and all. He was accepting the fact that he was the new Robin.

What he couldn’t accept was that _he_ was _no longer Robin_.

But he stopped those thoughts before they could move any farther.

_Nightwing doesn’t grieve. Nightwing doesn’t cry. Nightwing doesn’t fall to pieces, or show weakness…_

And yes, whether he liked it or not, he _was_ Nightwing. So the same rules applied to himself.

Just before he could bring himself to either drive away or go inside, a British-accented voice came through the speaker. “Hello? Who is there?

Richard’s breath caught in his throat, and it took him a few seconds to regain his composure and slowly press the /REPLY/ button. “Um…hey, Alfred.”

There was a burst of static. “Master Richard?”

He couldn’t smile at the surprise he heard laced in his old butler’s voice. Alfred was _never_ caught off guard. _Is my presence here really that shocking?_ He replied out loud, “Yea, Alfie. It’s me.”

More static, and then slowly, the gates began opening. “Come inside, Master Richard,” Alfred’s voice, now calm and composed once again, stated. “Master Bruce isn’t home at the moment, but he’ll be returning at any minute. I suppose you know that Tim is gone for the evening.”

“Yea, I know.” He cut the transmission, and rode his bike up the long, winding driveway that led to the Manor.

He parked it in front of porch and in three long strides, he was in front of that large green door. He remembered racing in and out of the house using this door, coming home from Gotham Academy, zipping in on Wally’s back while the redhead used his super-speed…

Once again, he forced the memories away, and gingerly knocked on the hard wood. It felt strange to knock, but appropriate. This wasn’t his house anymore – it belonged to Bruce and Tim.

He felt like a prodigal son of sorts.

It only took a half second before Alfred was standing before him. Richard realized that he was now taller than the elder, and almost smiled. Almost.

“Master Richard, come in.” As collected and unruffled as ever. Richard stepped into the Manor and observed the place with narrowed eyes.

It seemed nothing had changed. Same stupid wallpaper. Same tiled floor, same boring but sophisticated décor.

The door closed behind him, and then the two men just stood awkwardly in the lobby for several minutes before Alfred finally spoke up. “I’m surprised to see you here at the Manor, Master Richard. I figured you’d be busy with your Team, or perhaps fighting criminals in Bludhaven.”

 _So he doesn’t know. Hm, I assumed Bruce wouldn’t told him._ “I’m surprised you haven’t heard, Alfred,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant and only succeeding in sounding strained. “I, uh, I took a temporary leave of absence from the Team.”

Once again, he had managed to catch the great Alfred Pennyworth off guard. “Sir? You’ve…you’ve quit the Young Justice?”

“What? No, Alfred, I didn’t quit. Like I said before, _temporary_ leave of absence. I needed a break.” The whole time, he stared at the marble floor, trying to gain control of the conflicting emotions he knew were visible on his expression. “I suppose you also don’t know that Wally…died.”

“No, sir, I did not. I’m…sorry, to hear that, Master Richard.” The butler’s tone seemed to soften a bit as he said that, and Richard was sure that if he looked up, he would see sympathy woven in the wrinkles of the old Bat’s face. “I am glad that you have come home.”

“It’s just a visit, Alfie. I’m not even sure why I came here.” He ran a hand through his thick mop of raven hair, still focusing a bit _too_ much on the tile flooring. “I guess I need to talk to the B-man.”

He sensed rather than saw Alfred’s curt nod. “Very well. Your room is still fully intact since you were last here, Master Richard. I will inform Master Bruce when he returns from his conference at Wayne Tech.”

“Sure, okay. I’m gonna head into the cave for a while.” He didn’t wait for a response, instead made his way through the various halls and lobbies until he reached the living room. He made his way to the old grandfather clock, looking softly upon the old woodwork and the hands that were never set at the right time. Slowly, he reached up and turned the tiny needles so they were pointing in the right direction. There was a creaking sound, then a groan, before the wall where the clock stood again, spun inward, revealing the passageway that would take him to the Bat-cave.

As he descended the stairs, he couldn’t help but feel like an intruder. He noticed the cave had not changed at all, either – his acrobatics equipment was still set up in the corner, though he assumed that was because Tim used them to train. He found himself settling in front of the computer, and staring at the screens, feeling once again like he had when he was a small nine-year-old boy and had stumbled into the cave for a first time.

He scowled. He didn’t like feeling like a stranger. He had once been the Batman’s partner, Bruce Wayne’s foster son, member of the Team. He didn’t like having the sense he shouldn’t be there at all, and it took him several minutes to shake off the sentiment and tentatively begin typing on the keyboard.

At first he simply clicked through various files, roamed the different documents and resource links. This wasn’t the Batman’s _main_ computer – that was off limits to _everyone_. This was the one that he had used as a kid, and probably the one Tim used now. He felt more at home at the computer than he would have up in the Manor or any other part of the cave. His fingers flew across the keys, and his lips twitched into another almost smile. He may be Nightwing, but he was still the expert hacker he had been when he was younger.

 _At least some things haven’t changed_.

His instincts drew him to override the security functions for the Justice League, and soon he had access to both Watchtower and Mt. Justice video feeds, recordings, records, and mission data. He somehow wandered to the security footage that had been installed in the mountain, and suddenly he was desperately roaming through dates and timelines.

There. It was still there. Old footage from five years ago. After hesitating about a gazillion times, he finally galled up and clicked a date.

//LOADING ::: LOADING ::: MOUNT JUSTICE ::: AUGUST 5TH ::: 2011 ::: 6:00pm ::: LOADING ::: LOADING//

The footage popped up, and Richard found himself staring at a group of six teens in the Mt. Justice training room. His eyes rested on a speeding, yellow figure, and he leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms as he watched a fifteen-year-old Wally West race and zip around the room, obviously taunting the blonde girl in the green uniform. Artemis.

// “Can’t touch me, Blondie! Can’t even poke me!” the redhead was shouting on the screen. //

// Artemis fitted an arrow in her signature bow and desperately tried aiming for the speedster, her face etched with a scowl. “Slow down a bit, Kid Idiot, and we’ll test that theory!” //

Richard thought back to three hours ago, Artemis lying in the snow, sobbing for her dead lover. He quickly refocused his mind back to the footage.

// Aqualad finally managed to win a sparring match against Superboy, and the Atlantian chuckled lightly as the metahuman crashed against the ground. “You did well, my friend,” Kaldur said as he helped the fallen Kryptonian clone off the ground. //

// Superboy gave a quick nod, and then walked over to where M’gann was cheering for him on the set of tiny bleachers that rested against the wall. //

The video zoomed up to where Artemis finally managed to shoot a punching-glove arrow at Wally.

// The Kid Flash was knocked breathless onto the ground, where a little holographic FAIL sign appeared above him from the training floor. There were bursts of laughter from around the room. //

Richard tensed when he recognized one of the high-pitched cackled that suddenly filled his ears. And then he tensed even more when the thirteen-year-old version of himself walked into the footage, laughing and running towards Wally.

// “That was totally asterous!” the Boy Wonder exclaimed as he ran over to his best friend and helped him back to his feet. “Ooh, ooh! Can you do it again!” //

// Artemis crossed her arms and scowled. “That wasn’t for entertainment – I’m just disappointment I didn’t kill the moron! Laugh it up, Boy Blunder, cause you’re next… Wait… Robin?” //

// Robin had disappeared, and while Artemis groaned, Wally’s head whipped back and forth, searching for the bird. “Where did he… Ugh! I hate it when he does that!” //

Had he really once been that happy? That carefree? He remembered making up words and laughing like that, yes, but it was like a foggy dream. A distant memory. He hadn’t acted like that since leaving Gotham. Before that, even. When he had been so caught up in being an adult, he had left all of his childhood merriment behind and traded it in for a cold dullness that only the Batman could relate to.

He thought back to the months leading up to his ‘moving out’ day. The day he left for Bludhaven, he and Wally had gone to the movies and then the park. That had also been the same time when Wally and Artemis had retired from hero duty so they could live together and attempt _normal_ lives. Wally took his girlfriend to live in Central City, and he had gone to Bludhaven. They had been best friends, but the distance and everyday life had made keeping in contact difficult. Richard grimaced when he realized how distant he had become from all his old friends. Even when with the Team, he was more leader than friend.

Nightwing didn’t need friends.

Richard Grayson missed all his old ones.

Wally. He had trusted that quick-talking speedster with his true identity, even against the Batman’s wishes. And the redhead had never told a soul. And the redhead had never told a soul. Even when he had later told the team he was Richard Grayson, Wally had never mentioned that he had known before.

He continued sitting there, staring at the screen and scowling.

* * *

Bruce Wayne pulled his car in through the garage, parked the Ferrari, and then made his way into the house, carrying his briefcase and wishing for all the world that the people at Wayne Tech would invent some sort of speed conference, where hours of sitting in a room and rambling wasn’t a necessity. He walked into the kitchen and grabbed a glass from the dish rack, barley noticing Alfred approaching to talk with him. “I hate those conferences, Alfred,” the billionaire/crime-fighter grumbled as he filled his glass with water. “Seriously, I’m the owner of that company! I should find a replacement. I’ll deal with all the boss stuff, and the replacement can attend all the meetings, because I’ve just about had it with all those suited-up stiffs all arguing and grumbling and…”

“Master Richard is home, sir.”

“…and going on and on about budget cuts and high taxes and… Wait, what?” Bruce nearly choked on his drink as he slammed the glass down and turned to his own father-figure, eyes wide. “Richard’s back?”

“He’s down in the Bat-cave,” the grey-haired servant explained. “I’m not sure why he’s here – he didn’t sound too sure himself. Are you aware that he left the Team?”

A quick nod. “Aqualad filled me in.”

“You’re also aware that Mr. West…”

“Is dead, yes. Like I said, Aqualad filled me in. So did Barry.” Barry being Wallace’s uncle, and a constant visitor to the Dark Knight, it hadn’t taken long for the Gotham vigilante to hear the news. “The League set up a memorial for him in the Watchtower. We paid the Kid Flash our respects, and Bart Allen has agreed to respect his memory by carrying on his legacy as the new Kid Flash, leaving the identity Impulse behind him. We’ve sorted things out.”

Alfred eyed the man he had raised as his son with a gruff demeanor typical of all Bats. “Have you spoken with Master Richard?”

“No. I didn’t have to, Alfred, I told you that Aqualad…”

“Not about the mission.” _Was it his imagination, or was the butler sneering at him?_ “About Mr. West’s passing, the abandonment of the Team, and the obvious stress which has caused Master Richard to return here after an entire year of being in Bludhaven without a single visit.”

Alfred has always cared deeply for his foster son, Bruce knew that. So he assumed it was just the fatherly side of the old butler coming out, and gave a small shrug. “Richard made it quite clear the last time he was here that he wishes to be treated as a full and proper adult, Alfred. If he wants to stop by the Bat-cave, he’s free to do so. It’s not like I can prevent him from doing so.” He wanted to get off this topic about his former ward. Richard was now an adult – he wasn’t his responsibility anymore. At least, that’s what the Dark Knight kept telling himself. “When’s dinner, Alfred?”

Knowing that the man couldn’t be pushed any further, the reply was, “In ten minutes, sir. Might I request you go and see if Master Richard wishes to join us for the evening supper?”

“He’s probably only here to get some stuff from the cave, Alfred, I…”

There it was, the infamous Bat-glare; more like the _Alfred_ -stare, which could look far more menacing than one would think. Bruce glared back for only a second before sighing sharply. “Fine. I’ll go check on him.”

He stormed out of the kitchen, allowing Alfred a moment to smirk and shake his head.

* * *

 He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting Richard to be doing – certainly not sitting at the computer, watching five-year-old security footage of his old Team at the cave. _But considering Wallace dying, I shouldn’t be too surprised_. After that thought came a harsher one. _I’m the Batman! I shouldn’t be_ surprised _at all._

He stood several feet away from where his former protégé was seating, glowering at a screen, which showed the original Young Justice Team training at the mountain. Seeing the frown that appeared to be permanently etched into the young man’s features, Bruce crossed his arms and stared. _Since when has Di…Richard been so much like…me?_ Being cold and emotionless was the Batman’s job. Not Nightwing’s. But then again, he had never really seen Nightwing in action before, hadn’t seen him except for missions in a while. He had no right to judge.

He finally decided to make his presence known, and cleared his throat. He saw Richard visibly tense and tighten up, but didn’t acknowledge him.

Not acceptable.

“Richard, what are you doing here?” The question came out more hot and irritating than he had originally planned. He tried softening his tone – didn’t work. “You haven’t been to the cave in over a year. Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know.” Richard gave him a response, but didn’t turn or look at him. His tone was dry and lifeless. “Wally’s dead. I quit the Team. Batgirl took my place.”

“Aqualad told me you suggested that Barbara fill in for you during your ‘leave of absence’. Wanna tell me what that’s all about.”

“Not really.”

“You can’t just walk out on your team for no good reason.”

“I have a reason.” Richard stood up abruptly, and spun around to face the older man. His bright eyes were shining with a strange gleam Bruce didn’t recognize. “I needed a break. Desperately. I need time to sort things out. I didn’t quit on my team – I’m just…”

“The leave of absence, I know,” Bruce interrupted him sternly. “Then why did you come here, Richard? You should be in Bludhaven, sorting your problems out, and then getting back to work. You cannot allow your emotions or personal problems interfere with hero work. It’s not proper, it’s not acceptable…”

“Of course it’s not acceptable! Not by your standards!” There was fire in his eyes now as he glared at his old foster father. His former guardian. His former partner, his former mentor. _How did our partnership fall apart to this?_ In his mind, he thought _I don’t want to fight with you, Bruce_. But out loud, he was shouting “Nothing I ever did was good enough for you! The Dark Knight! The Batman! I was never good enough for you!”

Richard’s words stung, but of course Bruce didn’t show that. He kept his face void of all emotion as he said, “You still had much to learn. You _still_ have much to learn. You are grieving over Wallace’s death, and you are letting it get in the way of your true mission – as a hero, and a leader to your team.”

“I’m not grieving! Nightwing does not grieve!”

“You _are_ Nightwing. And if you aren’t sad over the death of the Kid Flash, then _what is wrong with you?_ Why did you come _here_?”

Honestly – Richard had no answer to that question. Instead, his mind was buzzing with a million thoughts a minute. He had come here, home, to try and find a piece that seemed missing from his life. He hadn’t come to argue with his old foster dad, the man he deeply cared about but didn’t know how to say it. He knew Bruce held some affection for him…

…it was the Batman that he was unsure of.

Bruce Wayne cared about Richard Grayson, but did the Batman care about his old Robin? Nightwing?

As Richard stared the man down, even though it was Bruce Wayne that returned his fiery glare, the question haunted him.


	3. Chapter 3

Dinner at the Manor was…unpleasant, to say the least. Awkwardly tense. Bruce seemed furious as he shoveled food into his mouth while reading the evening paper. Richard sat at the far opposite end, picking at his plate and staring at the wall. Alfred watched the pair with a raised eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. At least not yet. Bruce was sure the elder would give him a good lecture later about not talking with his old foster son; but at the moment, he was too angry and too stubborn to care.

Richard stared at the plate of food in front of him. It looked appetizing – Alfred was an ingenious chef – but he couldn’t bring himself to eat. His mind was still reeling with his argument with Bruce, Wally’s death, his ‘temporary resignation’… and the fact that he just didn’t want to be Nightwing anymore. He wanted to be Robin. Robin had always found a way to make things right with his warden. Robin had always found a bright side to any situation. Robin had always managed to laugh and smile in the bleakest of times.

Nightwing didn’t have any of those qualities.

Nightwing was constantly clashing heads with the Batman. Nightwing almost never smiled, and it had been forever since he’d laughed. Nightwing could only see the negative aura surrounded everything. That’s what happened when you lived in Bludhaven. That’s what happened when you decided to leave a part of yourself in the past, or locked away in the darkest corners of your mind.

The footage he had watched earlier only made the ache in his mind and heart grow. He missed laughing with his teammates. He missed Wally and Artemis bickering and flirting, missed sparring with Aqualad and Superboy. He missed M’gann’s cute interest in everything Earth had to offer, and he missed being the Boy Wonder. He had loved doing the ‘ninja thing’, as Wally had called it. Disappearing completely except for his signature laugh.

Everything was different. His Team was long gone – either all grown up or dead. There was a new Boy Wonder, a new Young Justice, a new everything. And though there were benefits to being a legal adult, to being Nightwing, Richard missed his old way of life. A lot.

 _What I wouldn’t give to be Robin again. At least one more time. Just one_ last _time. To be Robin again…_

“Master Richard?”

He was interrupted in this thoughts by Alfred poking his shoulder gently. “Are you finished with your meal, sir?” the old butler asked. Richard noticed with surprise that the entire table had been cleared already, and Bruce had disappeared. _When did that happen?_ He looked up into the eyes of his old friend and nodded. “The food was delicious, Alfie, but I’m just not hungry at the moment. Maybe you can wrap it up or something…”

“Do not worry, Master Richard, I have it under control,” the old Bat assured him, picking up the untouched meal and carrying it into the kitchen.

He remained where he was sitting, not wanting to risk meeting up with Bruce if he wandered around. When Alfred came in again with a cloth to wipe the antique table, the Bird of the Night spoke up, “Where’s Bruce gone off to?”

“Patrol. He said he won’t be back until past midnight, I’m afraid,” was the answer. “He did say you were welcome to spend the night, though.”

He couldn’t help but scoff at that statement. “C’mon, Alfred, I’ll stay if _you_ want me to but there’s no way Bruce invited me to stay the night. We just blew it out down in the cave.”

“Master Bruce may be a bit belligerent this evening, but he isn’t without his manners. He did indeed say you could spend the night here in the Manor, and if you don’t believe me…”

“I believe you, Alfie! I’m sorry I doubted.” Richard put up his hands, feigning surrender. The last thing he wanted was to start a verbal fight with his old _butler_ now. “Maybe I’ll spend the night. I don’t exactly feel like being in the same building as Bruce right now, but I don’t wanna go back to Bludhaven either.” He thought about his dingy little apartment and shuddered. “Yea, I’ll crash here ‘till morning.”

Alfred nodded, seeming satisfied. “Very good, Master Richard. Your room has already been prepared, and when Master Bruce and Master Timothy return tonight, I’ll inform you that you are here.”

“Tim’s coming back tonight? Good – some _decent_ company.” He made that last statement under his breath as he got up and began making his way to his old bedroom.

The moment he stepped through the doorway, it was like being transported back in time. Nothing had been changed in his room – _nothing_. The only difference being there wasn’t a speck of dust on anything. Same comforter on the twin bed, same books sat on the shelf. Even his old computer rested plugged in on the desk in front of the window with the same blue curtains.

 _Like I never left_. He walked over to the computer and sat down in the wheeled-chair, turning on and typing in the password (he still remembered even after a year of not using it: Zatanna). He made a mental note to change it later – remembering his ex-girlfriend every time he used the computer was probably _not_ good for the brain.

He found himself wandering to the photo files, and drew in a sharp breath when he found on particular photo that he remembered taking five years ago. There was him, all dressed up in his school uniform, snapping a selfie while holding his phone up to a tall blonde girl who could only be Artemis. He remembered taking that picture. He remembered running up to his teammate – she hadn’t known he was Robin at the time – and taking the photo, laughing the whole time.

 _“We’ll laugh about this sometime!”_ He remembered shouting that at her before running off, doing the ‘ninja thing’.

“We never did,” Richard breathed, back to the present time. He had never even shown Artemis, who was now Tigris, the picture. _We never did laugh about that_.

Then, he drew up another photo, this one being risky and a secret – Bruce had forbidden him from  keeping any connection to Robin or the Team in his room. To protect his identity. But he had kept this one picture: a photo of him, Wally, and Kaldur, all standing together and making goofy faces. On the bottom, he had photo-shopped the words _Today’s the Day!_ in bold text.

He remembered that day too. Their first mission as a Team had been a success. It had been their first day as an official team, their first tour of the Hall of Justice. The first time they were more than just sidekicks. He remembered the three of them, all sneaking through Cadmus labs, freeing Superboy, becoming the best of friends.

“Did you know?” he whispered, talking to himself but also to the picture of the three smiling, laughing boys. “Did _I_ know that _that_ day was the beginning of the end?” _Beginning of the end_ …

That day, they became a Team.

Now, he had no team. And Wally was dead. And Rocket and Green Beetle were dead too. And Batgirl was leader with Kaldur. And Batman had a new Robin. And Gotham was no longer his home. And now, he didn’t even know if he _had_  a home. Haly’s Circus, his first home, had been closed down two years ago. His parents had died nine years ago. Bruce only argued with him now, Alfred didn’t recognize him, Jason was dead, Tim was part of his old Team…

_Nightwing didn’t grieve. Nightwing didn’t cry. Nightwing didn’t fall to pieces, or show any weakness…_

But Richard Grayson did.

He couldn’t hide it any longer. After making sure the door was closed, Richard shoved himself away from the desk, and rolled over to his old bed. He collapsed onto it, breathing heavily as he tried to regain control of himself. He couldn’t. He couldn’t stop now.

He had no team.

Wally was dead.

 _Dead_.

The best friend he had ever had was dead. They’d never laugh again, or hang out. Wally would never crack a grin, or make some stupid remark, or flirt with Artemis, or spar with Superboy. They’d never be partners again.

They had been like _brothers_. And now all of that was over.

He had died in front of his very eyes! He should’ve done something! Should’ve pulled Wally out of the battle, told him it was too risky! He could’ve and should’ve done something!

And yet he had done nothing!

_“Today’s the day!”_

Did he know that first day as a Team would be the beginning of the end?

The end of his team, the end of his partnership with Batman, the end of _everything_ he cared about.

Artemis was now Tigris. The Light was still plotting and scheming. Roy Harper, his other friend, was actually a clone of the real guy, and was married to an ex-villain. The real Roy was now Arsenal, and he hated Nightwing.

Fool! He was a total fool!

Richard shoved his head against the mattress. Maybe he would suffocate this way, and end everything.

But eventually, his head jerked up and he gasped for air. _Stupid survival instincts!_

He settled for just lying on his old bed, thinking about how everything he had once held so dear had fallen apart, and he hadn’t been able to stop it.

He just wanted to go back in time and be Robin. Just be Robin. The laughing computer hacking ninja with the short stature and talent at stealth. He wanted to be Wally’s best friend, Kaldur and Batman’s protégé. Archenemy to the Joker even! Yes, he missed bickering with the Gotham villains too! He had given up the bantering and witty remarks a long time ago, and now the Bludhaven desperadoes saw him just like they saw the Batman. A man of shadows. Not even bothering to acknowledge except maybe point a gun at his head.

He was a shadow.

And he didn’t want to be.

_Wally was DEAD!_

Why was this so hard to accept? Wally was dead, and he wouldn’t ever be coming back.

_Please let this be a nightmare._

He knew it wasn’t.

He didn’t even recognize himself.

He just couldn’t hold it anymore. All that cool, composed aura that Nightwing held shattered into pieces, and Richard Grayson didn’t have the strength to rebuild the mask he always wore.

When the first tear came, the others followed freely. And he couldn’t even stop it, much to his chagrin. Every time he tried to stop, he would think of Wally, and his old team, and the fact that everything had fallen apart.

He did it silently, though. _Nightwing didn’t show weakness._

That didn’t mean he never had any.

He suddenly felt like he had nine years ago, when his parents had died.

Lost.

Alone.

Overcome with loss and longing and grief.

Wally was dead, and he was beginning to fear Batman hated him. After all, he had the new Robin now. Tim was now Bruce’s son. He was Nightwing, Bird of Bludhaven.

And to Gotham, he was nothing.

He fell to pieces silently in his bedroom, slamming the light off and drowning in the darkness.

* * *

2:30 am.

The Batman slipped into the Bat-cave silently, as was his nature. Patrol had produced nothing. _I suppose aliens almost taking over the Earth caused even the villains to take a break from crime tonight_.

As the Dark Knight hung up his cape and cowl, he noticed a familiar red and black uniform hanging on the hook. Tim was home.

Tim being home reminded him that he had told Alfred that Richard could stay the night as well. He wondered if his former ward had accepted. _Probably not. Why would he after arguing with me earlier?_

The Bruce Wayne side of him actually thought about apologizing to his former partner; but then the Batman came out and smashed those thoughts into the dirt. Why should he apologize? Richard was an adult, and adults sometimes squabbled. Richard has also been the one to come into _his mansion_ and start an argument.

_It was once his home too._

_But then he walked away._

Was that what he was still upset about? Richard moving out – no, _storming out_ – on him a year ago? “No.” The Batman talking to himself? Correct – he was only human after all. “I’m not upset about that.” His voice was just above a grumble as he marched up the stairs exiting the cave and entering his Manor.

Everything was silent; almost. What caught Bruce off guard was that Alfred was sitting in the living room, quietly reading a book. “Alfred, what’s wrong? Do you know what time it is?” The Batman giving his butler a curfew? Actually, this time the answer was ‘no’. But Alfred _was_ like his father. Concern was the appropriate word for this situation.

“I wanted to speak to you, Master Bruce, before retiring,” was the calm reply. “You see, I’m concerned about Master Richard…”

“This is about Richard? Look, Alfred, he’ll be fine.” Bruce didn’t even let the poor man finish. “He’s Nightwing now, and from what I’ve heard his team say, he can handle himself. In combat and out.”

“He _quit_ on his team, remember? Right after losing Mr. West. Master Bruce, don’t you think it might just be possible that Master Richard _cannot_ handle what is going on right now? Emotions can be powerful things, sir.”

“What are you talking about? Richard is a capable adult who…”

“He’s an eighteen-year-old boy, _sir_.” It had been a while since Alfred had raised his voice against his ‘master’. That didn’t mean the old man had lost the gall to do such a thing, and right now, it felt good for him to finally vent all the frustration he had been feeling towards the man whom he thought of as his son. “He’s just lost his best friend, Bruce (That’s right, not Master Bruce. Just _Bruce_.) and he’s trying to hide the grief instead of face it. Not to mention the tension between the both of you. It is suffocating. The fact that you and him hardly ever speak besides mission talk is simply…wrong. Wrong, and I believe you know it. But you _both_ are too stubborn to admit that you are both wrong and that you both need to make a change.”

Bruce stared wide-eyed, trying to keep his dark demeanor but only managing to look speechless. _Oh, Alfred, I hate your guts_. Not even Superman had the courage to scold the Dark Knight in such a manner. “Alfred, now is not the best time…”

“Now is the perfect time, sir.”

“It’s two-thirty in the morning, Alfred!”

“I passed his room a few minutes ago. He was not asleep.”

“You know that…how?”

There it was. The Alfred-glare. “I have my ways. I heard him.”

“Heard him doing what?”

“Go see for yourself, Master Bruce.” There. The comport act was back on. Pennyworth the Fearless was hidden back under the calm demeanor of Alfred the Butler. “I do believe it is high time you two had a little chat anyways. It’s time you talk with your _son_ , sir.”

Bruce managed to blink twice at the older Bat, mind zipping and fogged up by the sudden outburst from _his butler_. He opened his mouth to say something, closed it, opened it again; and then, frustrated, the Dark Knight silently trekked towards the staircase, taking each step slowly so he could have time to clear his mind.

He was brought back to reality when he heard Alfred cheerfully call, “Good-night, sir!”

He looked behind him, but Alfred had already disappeared from the room. _Just like a Bat._ Bruce couldn’t help but smile a bit to himself. _That crazy old man…_

He couldn’t deny Alfred had a point. Richard hadn’t just been his ward – he had been his son. It was time they talked.

When he reached Richard’s door, he hesitated to knock and he hesitated to just open it. Alfred was right – Dick was still only eighteen – but that was a legal adult. After a few minutes of warring in his head whether he should even talk at this hour of the night at all, he finally just tapped lightly on the wood.

At first there was no answer. Bruce stood there, awkwardly, and then knocked again. When he still received no reply, he settled for the fact Richard was asleep; but then, just out of curiosity, he slowly turned the door handle and looked inside.

When he saw the lump on the bed that was his former protégé, for just a second, Batman found himself looking at his thirteen-year-old foster son, curled up on the mattress, sound asleep while his overprotective guardian watched in silence. For just a second, Bruce was pulled backwards to five years ago, when it had just been him, Alfred, and his partner, keeping the streets of Gotham safe. Then, his mind cleared, and he was brought back to the present day.

Richard seemed to be asleep, knees drawn to his chest underneath the comforter, arms wrapped around himself in a protective manner. Bruce felt like he was trespassing, but he took a few steps in without making his presence known in the slightest. The Batman knew how to move without a sound – he practically lived his life in the shadows, when he wasn’t head of Wayne Tech.

He watched the boy quietly for several minutes, not knowing what to do. _Alfred had said he was awake_. Alfred was obviously wrong. He turned to leave, when a thought occurred to him. _Either that, or Richard_ is _awake, feigning sleep because he doesn’t want to talk to me_. That thought made him want to frown and smirk at the same time. He turned back so he was facing the bed and crossed his arms. Then, ever so quietly, he whispered, “Richard.”

And, immediately, a pair of familiar blue eyes opened up, and glanced at him. “Bruce.” A statement, not a question. He’d been awake. Slowly, Richard sat up, and stared at the older man, a neutral expression plastered to his face.

Bruce shifted uncomfortably – yes, even the Batman could be uncomfortable at times. Richard simply stared patiently, waiting for one of them to speak. A battle of wits over who could remain silent the longest… _Everything’s a battle with us nowadays._ He scowled at the thought.

Richard noticed, and mistook the scowl for a Bat-glare directed towards him. He looked down at the ground and mumbled, “Is there something you needed?”

 _Yes, I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to apologize. I want to make things right between us, Dickie_. But of course, even though the thoughts were there, Bruce had never been a man of words – or expressions. He couldn’t find a way to say it out loud, so he simply stared at the younger man in the bed, silent and menacing, even if he didn’t want to appear that way.

Richard peeked up through raven locks that feel in front of his eyes. He saw Bruce staring at him, and looked back down, biting his lip. _Damn, Bruce, are you emotionally retarded or what?_ Even so, he couldn’t blame him completely. It wasn’t like he was doing any talking either.

He couldn’t been more surprised when he suddenly felt a firm but gentle weight on his shoulder. He jerked his head up to see Bruce staring down at him, one of his large hands resting on his shoulder in a comforting gesture.

 _Yes, that’s right_. Richard remembered now. The Batman didn’t use words. There had been a time, back when he had been Robin, when the two of them didn’t need vocal communication. They had their own secret code, their own private language…

 _That_ was what Richard missed the most. He’d been too caught up in him trying to be an adult and lead the Team that he had forgotten completely about what it had really been like as the Batman’s sidekick. The bond he’d once held with his mentor. Partner.

Father.

Bruce was still silent, and from the angle Richard was at, he looked frightening as well. But he honed back into his old senses, and saw the twitch in the older man’s lips, the barely noticeable softness in his eyes. Translated: (I’m sorry).

 _He’s apologizing?_ Richard gazed up at him, eyes widening just a tiny bit, muscles beginning to relax under the familiar touch from his _father_. Translated: (I am too).

Bruce got the message. He now took this time to observe his _son_. Richard looked tired, exhausted, drained; but then he noticed tiny, faint lines running from his eyes to his chin. Barely visible, but nothing slipped past the Dark Knight. _Had Richard been_ crying _?_ The thought seemed absurd to him, but then again, with all the stress on top of Wallace’s death…

“We need to talk,” he said finally. The way it came out of his mouth, it sounded like a harsh order, like a reprimand. Richard was almost inclined to scowl – but he once again looked for the minor details. He saw the lift in Bruce’s eyebrows, the faint crease in his brow. The older man really did want to just sit and talk with him. He gave that bare smile of his and nodded, looking down. Silent message, translated: (I’d like that).

The hand was removed from his shoulder, and Bruce walked into the hall, not looking back. He was expecting Richard to follow; and he did. He slipped out of the bed and silently followed him as he always had as a small child. It wasn’t until he reached the stairs that Bruce looked backwards. He noticed Richard had slept in his jeans and shirt. He raised an eyebrow, and as he turned to start walking down the steps, he mused on the fact. _I do that too sometimes. When I’m tired from patrol or work at Wayne Tech. Hm._ He liked the idea he had something in common with the young man.

 _Have you already forgotten all the things you_ do _have in common with him? It’s only been a year, Bruce. THINK. He had once been your second half, the light to your life of shadows._

Richard easily caught up with his guardian, and the two walked side-by-side into the kitchen. They paused, though, in the doorway, and both unknowingly gave the same amused smirk as they saw two cups of a rich smelling, creamy beverages sitting on the kitchen table. There was also a little card, with the neat words _For Your Talk, Good Luck. –A_ printed neatly in swirling letters.

Bruce allowed himself a small smile. _Alfred. Of course_.

What almost made him jump, though, was the small chuckle that came from his side. He looked over to see a grin illuminating Richard’s face as the young man softly laughed. It was a bit deeper than how it had sounded when he was thirteen, more rich and filling; and it was also a sound Bruce hadn’t realized he had missed. A sound that had once echoed constantly through the Manor was now a rare treat that made Bruce Wayne, the Batman, smile. A real, genuine smile.

Richard heard himself laugh, and couldn’t help but grin.

He could laugh again.

It felt nice.

Everything else had changed.

He could still laugh.

The signature chuckle came so easily to him. _How did I ever forget_? He risked a glance at Bruce, and his laugh intensified when he saw the man smiling right back at him.

“Alfie put you up to talking with me?” He’d guessed that earlier, this ‘treat’ confirmed it, but he wanted to hear the Batman admit it.

He did, with that quick nod of his head and then his own, deep throated laugh that sounded a bit awkward but easy-going at the same time. “Do you mind?”

Another burst of that unique laughter. “Not at all, actually.”

The pair sat down and took a mug each. Richard stared at the table, still smiling wider when he looked at the drinks. “Hot chocolate. A perishable,” he remarked lightly. “He knew you’d be talking to me tonight.”

Bruce’s lips curved upward a bit at the observation. _Thanks, Alfred_.

It still hurt. Richard still felt depressed, angry, regretful… Wally was still dead. He was still Nightwing. He was still trapped in the present time, and could never go back. There was still a new Robin, and he knew things with his old mentor would still be a bit shaky.

But Bruce cared. He may not always show it, but at least he had the tiny fact that Bruce _did_ care. In his strange, Dark Knight way.  And most importantly – the Batman cared. He could see that now.

And it also helped to know that he could still laugh like that giddy, witty, computer-hacking ninja he had once been.

It didn’t stop the pain. But it helped.

* * *

8: 00 am.

They’d been up late, talking, but they still awoke early enough. Bruce sat at the table drinking coffee, Richard picked at his cereal, sitting at the breakfast island. It was quiet, but for the first time in a long time, it was a comfortable silence. A relaxed atmosphere.

When fifteen-year-old Tim came sprinting in for his breakfast, he took one look at the two of them and smirked, chuckling.

Bruce raised an eyebrow while Richard looked up. “What was that for?”

 Tim grabbed a bowl and joined his ‘older brother’ at the island. “Do you know that this is the first time I’ve seen you two together, in the same room, and not trying to kill each other?”

 Richard cracked a grin, and met Bruce’s gaze for a quick second. Translated: (You’ve got no idea).

 “So, how’d the mission go?” Richard couldn’t help but ask – his thoughts were still dwelling on his Team. That’s right. _His_ team. During their talk last night, Bruce had helped him to realize that solitude wouldn’t help the grief. So he was going to return the next day. He’d already informed Batgirl, and she’d seemed eager to give him his old position back.

 “You know, same old, same old.” Tim poured himself some cheerios and snacked on them dry, just like Richard. “Oh, but guess what! We picked up this Spanish dude who calls himself Bunker! He might join the team!”

 Well, that was news. A new Young Justice teammate. Richard chewed on the thought for a moment, then smiled. “Is he any good?”  
“His hands grow really big and then he just smashes stuff? Does that sound good to you?”

 “…yep.”

 “Yea, me too!”

Both boys laughed at the same time. Richard suddenly picked up a cheerio and flicked it at the younger boy. Tim scowled, and then playfully threw one back at him. Cereal was flying, Bruce watched quietly, amused, and Richard felt a weight lift off his shoulders.

  _He’s a good kid. I’m glad he’s Robin_. For a quick flash, he felt a stinging sensation as he was reminded of Jason, which led to him thinking about Wally. But the moment quickly passed, the smile returned.

  _It’s amazing what one night’s talk can do_.

 The depression wasn’t gone completely. He still held a small longing for being that funny little boy he remembered once being. He still wished he was the Batman’s right-hand man, that Wally was still his best friend, that he was part of his original team. But at least now he had a sensation of belonging, he knew he had a home with Bruce and Tim and Alfred, and he was going back to the Young Justice.

Maybe, just maybe, everything would be alright. For Richard Grayson _and_ Nightwing. One person, two people.

When Alfred came into the kitchen a few minutes later, the elder couldn’t suppress the smile that rose from amusement and satisfaction. Richard and Tim were having a playful cereal war, and Bruce was calmly watching with a twinkle in his eye. Translated: (everything was going to be just fine) 

The cheerios stopped flying as soon as both Wayne sons spotted the butler. “Gah! Alfred!” Tim nearly fell off his stool, while Richard just grinned. “Sorry ‘bout the mess, Alfie.”

“No big deal, sirs. I’ll fetch the broom.” As the old Bat walked into the hall, though, he paused when he heard Tim exclaim, “Hey, here’s an idea! Why don’t you come with us on patrol tonight?”

Alfred listened with a wan smile as Richard thought it over. “Maybe…”

And then he heard Bruce’s firm voice. “Come, Dick. It’ll provide good training. Stealth and maybe combat skills.” Translated: (I’d really like you to come).

Dick didn’t even scowl at the use of his old nickname. Instead, Alfred could tell the boy was smiling. “I suppose some brushing up won’t hurt. Nothing like Gotham villains to strengthen combat skills, right?” Translated: (You really want me).

“Definitely. I heard the Joker may be around these parts. We’ll need all the help we can get.” (Yes. Really).

Then Alfred heard that old laugh that he had missed in the mansion. “Well then, count me in! I hate to admit it, but I’ve missed that crazy clown.”

Tim hooted. “Oh yea, and he’s missed you! I feel kind of rejected – every time me and the Bats go to take him down, all he says is ‘aw, where’s the old Robbie?’ and ‘you’re not my Bird Boy’. Dick, it’s kind of insulting."

“Don’t worry, kid. By tonight, he’s gonna wish I’d stayed in Bludhaven.”

He made good his promise. He spent the Saturday at the Manor, catching up with everyone, the atmosphere much more comfortable than it had been for the past year. When it came time for night patrol, Dick was able to use the zeta tubes, grab his uniform from Bludhaven, and make it back to the cave in less than five minutes. He’d contacted Aqualad, asking him to watch over ‘his city’ while he was in Gotham, and he’d be back with the Team the next morning. The Atlantian had simply grinned and nodded.

 _Come on, Joker. Make my day_. Nightwing remained crouched on the rooftop of an apartment building, eyeing the Gotham City Bank for any signs of the deadly farceur. Tim was positioned on the building opposite of him, and the Batman was somewhere in the alley near the bank.

Nightwing waited about fifteen more minutes before his father’s voice came through his earpiece. “I’ve got him. Behind the bank, take the ally, stealth mode.”

Both he and Tim synchronized their movements so that they both travelled parallel to each other. It didn’t take long for the to spot the Joker lounging behind the bank, arranging a lovely display of dynamite against the back wall. All three Bats moved in the shadows, watching their target with interest.

“Batman, we’ll need to move before he blows that wall,” Tim hissed into his mouthpiece. “When?”

Before the Dark Knight could answer, Nightwing spoke up. “Hey, not that I want to take the fun away from you guys, but could I make the first move? I’ve missed this bastard.”

There was a pause from both lines, and then the Batman replied, “Agreed.” Tone gruff, but Dick managed to pick up a tone of understanding and even amusement. He smiled to himself, grabbed his grapnel line from his belt, and swung into action.

He propelled over the Joker, at the same time hurling three razor disks at him. Somehow, the clown had seen an attack coming, and easily danced out of the way. “Ooh, Batsy! I was wondering when you’d show up! Did you bring that fakester with you too?”

Nightwing was already out of sight, and the Joker left the bank wall and began strolling around the ally, looking around with those insane-filled eyes. “Come out, Batsy!”

Suddenly, something must have clicked for the psycho, because he got this look of surprise on his face, and then scrambled back to where the disks were lodged in the wall. He looked at the blue/black design, and then put a finger to his chin, posing a deep thinker. “Hm…you’re not Batsy. And you’re not the little faker either."

Nightwing had had enough hiding. With one quick flip, he landed only a few feet away from his opponent and smirked. “Miss me, Joker?” His voice sounded almost as dark as the Batman’s, but carried his now usual aura of playfulness and mischief.

The Joker squealed like a happy schoolgirl and spun around, grinning ear to ear – literally. “Robbie!”

“Actually, it’s Nightwing now. And stop being so hard on the new Robin – he’s only doing his job.” Dick grabbed two more disks and prepared to throw them.

Joker’s glassy eyes were dancing like mad, and he began dancing in place. “Aw, but he’s not _you_ , Robbie! I’ve missed our little dates – all I get are the faker and the Bat. And why change your name? Ah, well… At least I can still call you Bird Boy.” He suddenly burst into a deranged fit of laughter that only the Joker could pull off.

He remembered a time when that laugh had scared him. But that had been the past. Nightwing smiled. There _was_ an advantage to being who he was.

Nightwing wasn’t scared of some crazy, make-up covered clown.

He burst forward in at a speed that the Joker was caught off guard. His fist collided with a bleached-white jaw, and as the clown tumbled backwards, Nightwing let out the signature cackle, intensifying as Robin and Batman joined him from behind, all three dropping into a fighting stance.

The pain was still there.

It still hurt to think about Wally or certain memories.

But at the moment, Nightwing – Dick – felt at home.


End file.
